A Sunday Spent Together-Grocer and Writer (Young Lady’s Perspective)

A Sunday Spent Together-Grocer and Writer (Young Lady’s Perspective)

My mom ranted and raved all night last night but finally, she crashed.

It is in the wee hours of Sunday morning and I want to see my boyfriend so badly.

He promised that he would spend the day with me and I hope he keeps that promise.

I text him, “I hope we can still hang out later today. My mom has been on a rampage. She finally crashed, though.”

Hours pass. He’s probably sleeping.

I’ll get dressed just in case.

There I’m nice and warm.

While I wait for his reply, I listen to music on my phone with earbuds attached.

Finally, I get a reply text, “Of course we can hang out. I’m just waking up, but would you like me to bring you to my house?”

“Sure, that would be wonderful.”

“Say no more. I’ll come get you right now.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Let me just get dressed.”

“I love you, baby!”

“I love you too!”

I go wait on the driveway in the cold. It’s worth waiting in the cold.

Finally, he pulls up and steps out of the car.

I embrace him then say, “Let’s get out of here.”

He kisses my forehead and replies, “Your wish is my command!”

My boyfriend then opens the passenger door for me and I step in.

He then enters from the driver’s side, starts the car and we leave.

“Now my house isn’t the best, in fact far from it,” He tells me.

“That’s all right. At least you have a place of your own,” I reply trying to reassure him.

“Now I have to warn you about my neighbors-they are shady. Please don’t talk to them, don’t even look at them.”

“They’re that bad?”

“Yes. They are on drugs.”

“Like my mom?”

“Worse. They’re also in a gang. I don’t think your mom would kill someone for a yes or no.”

“Oh, my.”

“This is what I mean when I say I wish I would have better researched the neighborhood.”

He then tries to comfort me by saying, “They never made trouble with me. Of course, I have to overlook a lot of things they do.”

“Like what?”

“Like not call the police when they are blaring that loud vulgar music or parading the streets when they are drunk or high. I just stay inside anyway though, unless I am getting the mail or cutting my grass.”

“Then I’ll stay inside too.”

We are now entering his run-down neighborhood.

He drives up to a railroad crossing just as the gates are going down.

I tell him soberly, “I guess this is where the railroad line was relocated. My dad and other people in my subdivision fought to have the railroad taken out of our area and moved to the less fortunate part of the city.”

“It doesn’t bother me that much. In fact, if the economy wasn’t so bad right now, I’d try to get a job with the railroad. The hours would be just a little worse, but the pay would be exponentially higher.”

“We wouldn’t get to see each other as much though. Just let my dad get you published as a writer, he has the connections.”

“You’re right. Then I would be on easy street.”

“Just make sure to always make time for us.”

“Don’t worry I will. I mean if I didn’t how would I have any inspiration?”

The train has now passed and the gates went back up. Cautiously my boyfriend crosses the tracks.

We drive through his neighborhood and parks his car against the curb.

He escorts me out, then unlocks the gate to his hurricane fence.

Together we cut across his front yard then go up the steps to his porch.

He gets his house key and unlocks the deadbolt on his front door and we enter his house.

“This is it,” He tells me humbly.

He then walks to the master bedroom and switches the thermostat on. Seconds later his floor furnace lights up.

I look around the house and tell him, “It’s not so bad.”

I then see his desk with the computer and composition books.

“Is this where you write?” I ask him.

“It sure is,” He replies.

“Could you read your stories to me?”

“I would love to.”

He gets a chair from his dining room and hands me the swivel chair.

We sit at the computer and he reads to me.

My stomach growls loudly.

I wonder if he can hear it.

The gurgling continues.

He looks at me and I smile at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks me.

“Yes. My mom went on another binge eating episode and I didn’t make any more groceries yet.”

“Let’s go to my kitchen and see if I can feed you something.”

We walk to the kitchen and he looks through the cabinets.

He retrieves a can of Always Save Pork ‘N’ Beans.

He shows it to me and says, “I hope this is all right with you.”

“It’s fine. I would eat anything.”

“Then I’ll heat it up for you.”

He takes a Swiss Army Knife from my kitchen drawer and uses it to open the can.

Then he pours the beans into a saucepan and lights his stove. We wait for them to get hot.

He also brews some CDM coffee and chicory blend.

“We can have some cafe’ au lait with some rice pudding for dessert.”

“Thanks, but I’m already so fat and I shouldn’t eat sweets.”

“I think you’re beautiful; body, heart and soul and I would want you no matter what size you are.”

“I wish I could be skinny, but it’s such an uphill battle.”

“Well just know that I love you, no matter what size.”

I passionately throw my arms around him and exclaim, “I love you too!”

The beans are now warm and he places them on a plate for each of us. Then he pours some Best Choice Creme Soda.

We then sit down and eat.

I’m so hungry that I scarf down my food.

After we are finished eating, he asks me, “What would you like to do?”

“Snuggle together.”

“Well let’s go sit on the sofa and watch a movie. There’s usually one that plays on Sunday on one of the local TV stations.”

I follow him to the living room then wrap my legs around him as we cover up in a blanket.

He turns the television on, pulls up the guide feature and reads the Breaking Dawn 1 and 2 are playing back to back.

We sit and watch, holding hands.

After the movies are over, he asks me, “Would you like some dessert? I know you are worried about your weight, but I like to spoil you.”

“I guess I’ll take some. I do have a sweet tooth, maybe that’s why I fell for you.”

With that, he pours the coffee and chickory blend then add some milk and sugar.

Afterward, he gets us each a cup of Senor Rico Rice pudding from his old refrigerator.

We sit on the sofa and eat, smiling at each other blissfully.

After we are done, it is now dark.

“I hate to leave, but I need to get home before my parents realize I’m gone.”

“I’ll take you home, but I’ll definitely miss you.”

So we leave his house.

We walk to his car and he opens the passenger door for me. He’s so sweet.

He then enters on the driver side and starts the car.

Sadly we drive through the December night until we arrive at my parents’ house.

“I can’t wait to spend time with you again,” I say, kissing him good night.

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